Werewolf Support Services
by ColdBrews
Summary: Hermione has brought back the Werewolf Support Services office in the Ministry in order to aid werewolves post-war, but she never imagined she would end up being pursued by two very different men as she struggles through fundraising and random attacks. Making a difference isn't as hard as making a choice like this. Hermione/Draco/Remus. EWE? Slight A/U.
1. Chapter 1

Author's Note: Just like to point out this is a slight AU in that Tonks and Remus both survive the mass character slaughter in DH as well as me blatantly stunting their relationship... Meaning they don't get married or pregnant. Sorry, Tonks. The rest of our beloved cast that bit the dust in the series are staying dead, sorry to say. Also, mandatory EWE?

Hope you enjoy!

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The small office for the Werewolf Support Services branch of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures was a bit of an anomaly in the Ministry. Having been closed down after its failure to ever help a werewolf, it was never thought to be resurrected. Departments that closed down in the bureaucratic Ministry rarely ever saw the funding to claw their way back into existence. Besides that it never really managed to _do_ anything, many Ministry employees heaved a collective sigh of relief knowing that there wouldn't be any potential werewolves wandering the halls.

That is until the wild hair and overly impassioned Hermione Granger had muscled her way in. Post-war the Golden Trio had been revelled as heroes. The Boy Who Lived Again and his two best friends had all found places in the ministry, and while Harry and Ron had predictably immediately jumped into the Auror department, the wizarding world was surprised when the brains of the bunch had requested to bring back the long closed service.

And while the boys had trained with Aurors and shown off their prowess, Hermione had scraped together resources and funding to make her plan a reality. A year after the war had ended, with trials of lesser Death Eaters continually tying up the courts, the world had mostly moved on. And now Hermione sat in the office that was never supposed to come back, and huffed out a heavy sigh.

Officially open for the last 4 months, after months of policy work and proposals and fundraising, the Werewolf Support Services had yet to have a single client. Not one werewolf had reached out to the Ministry, despite the werewolf friendly attitude of the new Minister of Magic Kinglsey Shacklebolt, there was still a pervading stigma against werewolves that made them gun shy to seek help.

Hermione's initial thought was no werewolves had come to seek help from the original Support Services was probably because of the Ministry's very anti-werewolf position. But a pro-werewolf minister was, she had discovered, a small portion of the ministry. Or of the wizarding world.

And when she had begun to experience that stigma by association, Hermione was beginning to see why werewolves steered clear from the general population. Hate mail had poured in, ranging from concerned citizens who thought maybe she was misunderstanding how dangerous werewolves were to howlers announcing her to be a Death Eater in disguise and that she should be thrown in Azkaban for helping monsters.

She reorganized the pamphlets she had painstakingly made that detailed all the services they offered. The ones that some of her friends had taken out of slight interest, but mostly pity, and leaned back in the chair of her pristine office. Not much to clutter when there was no clients to help, and she stared balefully at the empty chairs on the other side of her desk.

She was saved from crawling too far into her head about her failure by her wand emitting a small sparkly bird. It flew in a circle chirping pleasantly, while letters dragged behind it saying _"Lunch"_. Her heart lifted a little at the chance to leave her depressingly empty office and go meet the boys in the Department of Defence cafeteria for lunch.

She grabbed her small bag, a now dark suede one with a thin strap as opposed to the old beaded one she had dragged across the country side, and headed down to meet her best friends.

When she walked into the crowded cafeteria, she saw Harry wave her over to his and Ron's table. It had finally gotten to the point that people had stopped accosting them for more information about Voldemort's defeat, but she still felt the not so subtle glances as she crossed the room.

Smiling, she sat down next to Ron and pulled her lunch out of her bag and took the stasis charm off of it. "Hello you two," she greeted.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry greeted, while Ron nodded with his mouthful. It'd taken over 18 years but Ron had finally learned not to talk with his mouth full. At least in public. Too bad it wasn't enough to have had solidified their relationship after the war. Harry had been all too happy that they had continued as friends and not a couple, saying once he was glad to avoid their awkward relationship fights in the future.

Ron swallowed his cafeteria sandwich and hit the table as he laughed out loud. "Hermione! We need to tell you about these new recruits. Bloody useless, the lot of 'em."

"You were new recruits yourselves not that long ago, Ron," she reminded, with a grin.

"Yeah, but we were like, heroes, y'know? I swear these guys have never even cast a spell outside of Hogwarts, let alone in battle." He puffed his chest up a bit, as Harry laughed.

"Yeah, Ron? Like how in training you got your arse kicked repeatedly the first week?" Harry's comment didn't seem to faze Ron, who seemed to have finally held onto some confidence after all the accolades his involvement in the war had given him.

They chatted happily about the goofs of the new recruits, and Hermione laughed at hearing the antics. So much vibrancy in their day to day work compared to her tidy, quiet office.

Harry waved to someone behind her, and Hermione turned to see Tonks waving back as she walked over. Her hair a bright purple and her ever present smile fixed in place, Hermione felt the natural cheeriness Tonks brought around with her was a gift she'd never have. Which was more than okay- the world needed bossy know it alls with, as Ron put it, 'a love for hopeless causes'. Or at least, she thought the world needed them anyway.

"Well, hello to the Ministry's golden trio!" she greeted cheerily as she walked up, winking at Hermione after Harry made a noise of disgust at the nickname. Hermione laughed, knowing that Tonks had been fond of hazing the boys since they joined, lest they forget that war heroes or not they're still low on the totem pole.

"Wotcher, Hermione," she said in response to the laugh. "How's things in werewolf land?"

Hermione's smile fell a bit. "I'd love to say that it's make a big difference and that werewolves are lining up for wolfsbane appointments or job connections, but really it's been a ghost town."

"There's ghosts up there?" Ron cut in to ask, flushing when the three laughed in response to his question.

"It's a muggle phrase, Ronny-boy," Tonks answered. "Means there's a town set up and all the people are gone." She smacked Ron on the back and he shrugged and went back to his lunch, by now used to not getting every idiom.

Tonks turned back to Hermione. "That's a right shame. Remus could really use some wolfsbane instead of caging himself up... why haven't you talked to him?"

"I didn't know he wasn't getting any wolfsbane!" Hermione frowned, feeling guilt at not reaching out to him sooner. It really was news to her that Lupin wasn't getting the potion, but with Snape gone it made sense that his main supplier was no longer around. She had barely seen Lupin after the war, despite seeing Tonks around the boys every now and then, and she had determined early on to let him come to her if he needed help. "I'm sorry... I don't know Lupin as well as the rest of you. It felt like I shouldn't harass him about being a werewolf after everything that went on in the war..."

Tonks laughed and this time hit Hermione good naturedly on the back. "Don't be silly! I can bring it up with him if you don't feel comfortable chatting with him about his canine proclivities. He wanted to talk to me tonight anyway..." She leaned in to whisper conspiratorially with the three, " ...and I suspect that the talk might end up with some big news and a little bit of bling!" She winked again, at the lot.

Harry grinned, "That's excellent!" He looked at Ron's confused face and laughed. "Hermione?"

She sighed. "Why am I always the designated explainer?" She huffed and put her chin in her hand.

"Because you'd implode if someone did it for you," Harry joked back.

"Oi, I am RIGHT here! Explain what?" Ron interrupted.

"With that, I think I'm gonna take my leave!" Tonks bent back up straight. "Wotcher, Ron. Maybe you should bring Hermione on your missions to act as a translator of basic slang sometime. See ya, guys!" She ruffled Ron's hair, who scowled, and practically skipped away.

"Well, she's clearly over the moon," Hermione commented as they watched her go.

"It's good for them, though," Harry said. "They've been together for a while now." Hermione didn't bring up that Harry's estimation of 'a while' wasn't all that long, given most his role models had gotten engaged at 17. Ron continued to look at them confused, until something caught his eye and he scowled more heavily.

Hermione looked over and saw Draco Malfoy talking to Tonks. She was still smiling, but it didn't seem to reach her eyes, and she couldn't tell what they were saying.

"Nice to see him walking around scott-free. Like he isn't still some nasty Death Eater," Ron spat out.

Harry looked uncomfortable. "It wasn't exactly scott-free, Ron. I'm trying to let things go after testifying for him."

Hermione saw the same argument about to boil up again from when Harry first said he would testify for Malfoy. Ron had been furious, and Hermione wasn't exactly thrilled about it either. But Harry had been insistent. He said that with Malfoy Sr in Azkaban again that it was enough of a new start for their highschool rival and bully to maybe become something better. She wasn't sure who had put this idea in Harry's head, as it wasn't something she'd ever though him to come up with on his own, but it had stuck with him.

"Besides," Harry continued, "him and Ginny have become friends. She says he's actually alright nowadays. Y'know, now that he's not against us anymore."

Malfoy and Ginny worked together in the Department of Magical Games and Sports. Ginny worked as a consulting coach, as she was Chaser and coach for the Cannons due to both the publicity she brought with her recruitment and her ability, and Malfoy worked on the legislative side of the games.

"Yeah, well, she obviously has piss poor taste in men," Ron said, preferring to get a dig in at Harry than drag up an old fight.

"Oi!" Harry said with a laugh. "What you think, Hermione? Has the Ferret been through enough?"

They both looked at her to take a side, and she shrugged. "I like the money he's been putting into helping with post-war efforts. Even if I don't much care for him." She honestly hadn't said one word to Malfoy since Hogwarts. It was Harry that had had all the contact with him through the trial, as well as through his girlfriend's new found friendship with the man.

"Since when do you care so much about money?" Ron glared. Despite making decent pay as an Auror money was still a sticking point for him. "Seems kind of shallow of you, 'Mione."

She glared at him. "Not every department is seen as glamorous to include in the budget as yours is, Ron. I've learned the benefit of invested donors, even if they're someone like Malfoy. Writing up pleas for money to keep your office afloat isn't something you need to worry about like I do." And it was true. Fame wasn't enough to continually fund a budget line that wasn't providing anything of use to the public.

"Well, _maybe_ had you gone to working in the Minister's office like everyone bloody thought you would try to do, then you wouldn't have to be so concerned about Malfoy's galleons!" Ron fumed. That had been a sticking point when she first announced her plans. How Ron had wanted her to do what was the most illustrious position available to her. He had an idea of them as some sort of Ministry power couple before they had crumbled through too many fights and gave up on any sort of romance between them.

"Cut it out," Harry sighed, all too familiar with their bickering. "Werewolf support needs to be done. Voldemort hurt a lot of werewolves during the war, and they were too easy for him to recruit. The ministry needs this, and Hermione is the perfect fit for the job."

Hermione glowed. Harry didn't often side with her, but his deep affection for Remus had meant he was supportive of this decision for day one. "Thanks, Harry," she said, feeling the sincerity of it bring her smile back.

She went back to her own sandwich that she had packed, feeling the easiness of the friendship between the three of them melt the argument away. Malfoy and Tonks had split up while they argued, and neither were anywhere in sight. What had brought him to the mess hall anyway? She wondered about his and Ginny's friendship... Ginny wasn't the type to forgive easily, and she had seemed to take a liking to him. Harry seemed okay with him too... but Hermione still felt the uneasiness about the bigotry he had directed at her during their school years.

Maybe he wasn't violent or dangerous anymore, but it was hard to let go of the childhood bullying when she hadn't even heard him apologize.

Her wand chirped when it was time to go back to work. The little bird announced that lunch was over. Before she left, Ron got her to explain what 'bling' was and what it meant for Tonks and Lupin. Unlike Harry, who had found the news so exciting, he shrugged it off as boring. Harry had called him a hopeless romantic, and they laughed before Hermione made the long walk back to the shameful silence of her office.

The mail had been spelled into her 'In' try and she sighed heavily as she sat back in her chair, knowing that it wouldn't be any fan mail. She loved lunch with the boys, and wouldn't trade their company during her sluggish days for anything, but it made going back to the quiet so much harder. When she had worked on essays in the silence of the Hogwarts library she had loved the focus she could achieve, but when all she had to do now was write up funding requests, the silence felt more like an accusation than a solace.

Her fourth year at Hogwarts had similar issues when she had started S.P.E.W., she mused. Using her own money to make badges and buy yarn to knit hats. The effort into clumsily learning to knit. It was, as she had told Ron, hard for a non-glamorous department to receive any extra money. House elves were even less likely to receive attention than werewolves were.

She sat upright in her chair. Maybe that would be a place to get some ideas. The House Elf Relocation Office was in the same department as hers, after all. And while she had briefly met the head of that office, she had never gotten a chance to really talk with her. It wasn't the same as support services, as Relocation really just worked with rich families trading house elves, needing new ones, releasing old ones and the like, but they still needed their budget approved every year like Hermione did.

Instead of setting up a meeting, she decided to just pop in. She walked down the hall and saw that Miranda Taylor's, head of the office, door was ajar. She knocked hesitantly and the beautiful blonde woman opened the door.

Dressed in smart navy dress robes, her blonde hair in a perfectly set chignon, Hermione felt out of place next to the gorgeous woman. "Hello, Hermione," she smiled. "What can I do for you?"

Hermione suppressed the urge to smooth her own rather plain robes. "Hi, Miranda... I was wondering if you had some time for a chat? I'm afraid I've hit a bit of a wall and would like to brainstorm with someone with a little more experience."

"Absolutely, feel free to come take a seat. I'll make some tea." She graciously waved Hermione to a chair and took her own place at her desk.

"Thanks so much. I'm afraid my friends don't understand the problem of funding," she said as she sat down.

Miranda smiled as she charmed a pot to heat water. "No, I suppose they wouldn't. Aurors have always been alright when it comes to budget time." Her voice was soft, which seemed to be a counterpoint to the blunt things she often said.

"I really would love to get some advertising done. For both werewolves who need to know more about the service, as well as for the general public to help with the stigma. If no one knows what we do or how we can help make werewolves and the public feel safer, then my office is just going to die again. I just keep getting proposals denied because of the dollar figures attached. How do you manage?" Hermione asked, while she looked around the elegant office. It matched Miranda in the way it seemed to be so effortlessly posh.

She poured them each a cup, and Hermione added her own splash of milk. Miranda didn't answer right away, and instead sat back with her tea and eyed Hermione up.

"Hermione, I can tell you care. A lot." She sipped her tea.

Hermione looked at her with surprise, holding her own tea and waiting for it to cool. "Of course I do! Werewolves in this country desperately need assistance, and when they're continually becoming more and more isolated after the war, then we really do need to-"

Miranda held up a beautifully manicured hand. "Can I interrupt?"

Hermione nodded, feeling somewhat abashed by the cool demeanour of the other woman

"Do you know where most the funding for my department comes from?"

Hermione nodded, having looked the budget over before. "You get it through fundraising. That's why I'm here- to see how you get approval to run fundraisers. Mine are all killed before I can go through with them."

Miranda shook her head. "No, it's put in as 'fundraising' on the budget line. It's actually just through donations." She arched a delicate brow at Hermione. "You see, I pander to my audience. Purebloods who can afford house elves wouldn't be satisfied to even come to the ministry if I didn't. I dress the part, I act the part, I do the part. If someone thinks house elves are vermin, I call them vermin. If someone sees them just as a tool or as a maid, then I call them that. I adapt, I don't fawn. Do you understand what I mean?"

Hermione felt the righteous anger from her S.P.E.W. days rise in her chest. She gaped for a moment before bursting out, "But that's awful! You're perpetuating those points of view by adapting to them! No pureblood will ever change their mind if you don't say anything!"

Miranda nodded patiently. "I care about house elves," she said. And Hermione opened her mouth to argue, but Miranda continued, "I do. And because I care about them I work to get them in good homes and away from bad ones. But I can't do that properly without money. I'm sure you've seen that galleons make efforts easier. It's not an ideal situation, but it's the one I've decided to work."

Hermione frowned. The practicality was there, but she hated the moral compromise. It was manipulative and against her own principles... or was it? As a student she'd believed in hard work and cleverness over coming all obstacles, but since embarking on this journey she'd certainly used fame and connections like she never would have imagined she would have only a few years ago.

"If I'm interrupting a business lesson, I can always come back."

Hermione stiffened at the voice. Standing in the doorway was Draco Malfoy. Same blonde hair, same grey eyes, same pompous voice.

Miranda smiled at him, not seeming to miss a beat by his sudden appearance. "Not at all, Draco. Just having an impromptu meeting about business practice with Miss Granger here." She looked at Hermione, who hastily stood to leave.

Draco eyed her warily before looking back at Miranda. "I think I'll be coming back anyway. I'll speak with you later, Miranda." He nodded curtly and left without a goodbye to Hermione, who stood halfway turned to the door, unsure if she should leave or not.

"Well, he's not going to come back until later. You might as well stay. Mister Malfoy is just looking to rehome his elves due to the sale of the manor anyway."

Hermione sat down in surprise. "He's what?"

She sipped her tea. "Yes, well, I'm sure you can imagine less than pleasant memories reside there for him."

Hermione felt the stinging of the long scar that ran up her chest, between her breasts, courtesy of Bellatrix's knife. The smell of Bellatrix's breath, her own screams ringing in her ears, _"We found it!"_ The pain that felt like it would never end...

She shakily put her cup down, to see Miranda observing her closely. "Or perhaps not pleasant memories for many," Hermione smiled weakly.

Miranda nodded, and Hermione was glad when she didn't push or ask questions. She watched as the other witch cast a tempus and looked at the time.

"I really need to get back to it. It was good talking to you, and if you want more fleshed out ideas, we can always chat again." She stood up and Hermione followed suit, grateful to not have to make conversation now that her mind had been dragged back to Malfoy Manor's floor.

"Thank you, Miranda. I'll think on what you said, and thank you for your honesty." Hermione was surprised at how much she meant it. She wasn't sure yet how to apply Miranda's tactics, or if she even would, but it was a straightforward opinion and she hadn't found many of those in the Ministry so far. She stood up and shook the witch's hand.

"I don't get often to work with someone who cares, Hermione. I'd very much like to see you stick around."

Hermione looked at her carefully, feeling there was something to those words, but not understanding what. Maybe Miranda was more fed up with the callousness of the ministry and public toward magical beings than Hermione had given her credit for. She was just so composed about it all, while Hermione was tempted to tear her hair out if the department head rejected one more proposal.

"Anyway," the witch continued, "feel free to come back again. It was lovely to chat with you, short as I've had to cut it."

Hermione nodded in agreement. "It really was. I'm sure I'll come back. Take care."

As she wandered back down the hall to her own office, her thoughts stayed with the blonde woman she had just left. Miranda, when their department head Mr. Crews had introduced her on Hermione's first day, had come across as a soft spoken pureblood lady of wealth. Hermione had felt an unfair aversion to her from that moment, and never would have expected what she had been told today.

She grinned. And Miranda's clients hadn't suspected either. And were donating, either in thanks, or in efforts to get what they want. Hermione didn't have the same pureblood clientele, but her own argument with Ron earlier today felt incredibly relevant.

When she got back into her office, she saw large purple letters had appeared on her calendar. She felt excitement spike in her and she crossed her office to the large calendar on the wall. She looked at the date it was on, June 11th which was tomorrow, and saw the purple script read _"Appt: 8:15am"._

She sat down and felt happy tears start to well up. It shouldn't be this big a deal, it's what the whole office had been resurrected for, after all. But it did mean a lot. It meant the start. The _real_ start.

She finally had her first client.

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Author's Note: Thanks for reading! I hope the set up makes sense, and I'm excited to get going on some romance here. Things do get steamy (and maybe a little violent) later on, so the M rating is a precaution for now. I hope those that made it to this note aren't too upset about the lack of blood or sex so far. ;)

Cheers!


	2. Chapter 2

She turned around the mirror and observed herself. Deep green dress robes in a contemporary style. Hair pulled back into a messy bun. Pale skin, the hallmark of a bookworm at heart, and the deep brown eyes that matched her hair in colour. Miranda's words were in her head about _dressing the part_ , except Hermione wasn't quite sure what that meant.

Should she look professional and like she knew what she was doing? Or relaxed and welcoming, but at the expense of maybe highlighting her young age and relative inexperience?

She eyed her outfit again and sighed. It looked okay. In fact, it looked almost how she did every day. She'd need someone a little more expert than she was in the world of appearances if she was going to make any substantial changes.

Her flat was the same state of clean and organized as her office was. A few pictures of family and friends carefully placed on an empty shelf, while every other shelf was stuffed with books. She didn't have room in the space given to her at work to have bookshelves in her office, and she though back to Miranda's tasteful office in comparison to Hermione's own rather stark one. Maybe that needed the makeover before she did.

Living in a small flat meant there was no floo for her to get into work, so she grabbed her bag with her packed lunch and made her way out the door. There was a coffee shop at the end of the block with a public floo in the back, and it had been a part of Hermione's morning routine since she'd moved into this place. Coffee, with an ash proof lid, and floo.

As she walked in the still cool air, her mind turned to her upcoming (first!) appointment. There had been no name or information with it, but that wasn't entirely unsurprising. People set up appointments by writing to her office and it magically spelled them onto her calendar. If they didn't fill out all the fields in the request, like their name or reason for visiting, then it would remain blank. The Ministry had a bad enough reputation when it came to werewolves that she felt guilty at the idea of making them be required to put their name down in writing. If it became an issue, she'd change it later.

Besides, she was too excited to even _have_ and appointment to worry about logistics like that right now.

She pulled on the door to the shop and took her place in line behind two women chatting away. An elderly woman stood in front of them placing her order, and Hermione smiled as she saw the cashier endure the small talk she was making with him. She fished out her money, knowing the exact change she'd need for her drink and floo visit, and waited patiently.

"Yeah, well since the Minister came in they've made lots of changes about those things," the one brunette woman in front of Hermione said to the other slightly older lady with greying red hair. The brunette was a waifishly thin lady, her hair long and straight. The red haired lady seemed to be her co-worker and gossip network as the two chattered away.

The redhead responded, "I still can't believe it. People shouldn't be mixing with animals. It's disgusting. They need to repeal that law and make it so they can't even marry. Who could feel safe knowing your husband turns into a rabid dog every month?"

Hermione felt heat flush to her face in anger as she realized what the conversation in front of her was about.

The brunette laughed, "Yes, well I don't have to worry about it! I'd put one down before marry it!" This seemed to be an inside joke or something as they both laughed quite hard.

Hermione's change dug into her clenched fist. "What's wrong with you two?!" she blurted out at the ladies in front of her. They turned to her in surprise, and the elder woman's surprise left when she seemed to recognize Hermione.

"Oh, dear. Just because you're famous doesn't mean that a wolf wouldn't bite you too," she said kindly. "They're dogs, they don't care who they hurt." The condescension in her voice did nothing to abate the anger Hermione felt.

"They're not _dogs!_ They're human beings! And they deserve a life, and marriage, and everything that you do! Have you even _met_ a werewolf! They're fine!" Her voice was loud enough that everyone in the coffee shop had turned to the argument.

"I have," said a quiet voice. The old lady who had been chatting with the cashier stood there behind the two ladies gripping her plastic tea cup tightly. Everyone turned to look at her, and the two women parted slightly to let her stand directly in front of Hermione.

"I've met a werewolf. Met it during the full moon. And it wasn't human," her voice had started to rise as she accosted Hermione, who stood with her mouth open, unsure of what to do. With two ignorant women prattling on, stepping in had been easy. Now, she felt abashed by the angry stare of the old lady.

She walked closer to Hermione. "I saw it when it ripped my son apart and ate him because He Who Must Not Be Named dropped it on our doorstep. And you, Miss Granger, how dare you try and help monsters like that!" She was crying while she yelled at Hermione now, and Hermione felt tears well up in our own eyes in embarrassment and sympathy.

"That's not what I'm trying to do, if they just come and get Wolfsbane then-" she tried to explain but was cut short by the old lady's yelling.

"They don't need help! They're monsters!" And on the last word, she flung her hot coffee at Hermione's face.

She brought her arms up before her wand, and felt the hot liquid splash across her hands, face, and chest. It burned and she cried out in pain as she got her wand ready to vanish it.

The coffee shop was ablaze with people talking as the old lady marched out without a backward glance. The two ladies that Hermione had originally accosted looked sheepishly satisfied to have had an old woman put Hermione in her place.

She vanished the liquid and saw the bright pink burns on her hand, and from the pain on her face and chest they must have matched in colour.

The cashier that Hermione saw every morning had come around the counter. "Are you okay? Do you want me to help you with an Auror report?" he asked, concernedly.

She wiped the tears away and shook her head. "I've got to get to work. I'd like to just skip the coffee and use the floo today, if that's alright."

The young man nodded vigorously and led her around the back of the counter to the fireplace in the back. The red brick fire place burned cheerily, although cooling charms in the area kept it from throwing off too much heat.

"If you change your mind, let me know," the cashier said seriously. Hermione saw that he looked young, about her age, and he was nervously examining her burn marks. His face was freckled which brought Ron to mind automatically, but his hair was sandy and his eyes a warm brown. And he was much shorter than Ron, although he had a much broader physique. She tried to smile to reassure him.

"I'll be fine. I've got some dittany at work and I really can't be late today. Thanks."

He looked torn on letting her go, so Hermione just grabbed a hand full of floo powder and threw it in the fire where the flames turned brilliant green. "Seriously. I'm fine."

He nodded and twisted his hands, and Hermione's eye was involuntarily drawn to notice how strong his arms looked. She blinked at the inappropriate thought, but the pain from the burns had her mind moving on right away. She stepped into the fire and called, "Ministry of Magic!" and saw the young man staring worriedly after her as she was whisked away by the flames.

She popped out into the usual hustle and bustle of the start of the work day and grimaced as she felt her robes rubbing against the burns on her collar bone as she worked her way through the busy hallways to her office.

Looking at the permanent tempus charms on the walls as she went she saw she still had time to get ready and put some dittany on before her appointment started. But she didn't know if she could get out of the terrible frame of mind that encounter had put her in. The frustration she'd felt had been one thing but being the victim of someone's grief and pain wasn't something she'd had to come to face beyond scathing letters.

She turned the corner to her office, having avoided any cheery morning conversation with her pained look and downcast eyes, she waved her wand and unlocked her office. It was then she saw, leaning against the opposite wall, that Remus Lupin stood there waiting for her.

"Oh! Hello, Professor Lupin!" she greeted in surprise, and then smiled both at seeing him and her calling him professor out of habit. She noticed he looked just as shabby as his time at Hogwarts, although having put on some weight meant the gauntness in his cheeks had gone away. His eyes still looked like the tired amber they had always been, and more silver had begun to work its way through his hair. He'd also grown out a beard, which was surprising to see.

"Hello, Hermione," he said with a smile. "And it's been more than a few years since I was a professor. Call me Remus, you're more than welcome to." His voice was quiet but warm, and she remembered his calming and gentle mannerisms in the classroom. How it had been such a treat when his own enthusiasm for the subject would break his own calm demeanour and get the class wrapped up in excitement with him.

It was lovely to see him, especially without having to feel like she was hounding him, but he'd picked the worst timing possible. She frowned. "It's lovely to see you, Remus. I'm sorry that you picked the one time that doesn't work since I have an appointme-"

She was cut off by him closing the distance between them and eyeing her critically. "What happened to you?"

Her breath caught by the unexpected closeness. She looked up at him, not realizing until now how tall he was, and saw his face serious and lined with concern. The soft and warm expression replaced with something hard, and she furrowed her brow at seeing his nostrils flare. She stepped back and laughed awkwardly.

"An accident getting coffee this morning," she tried to brush it off. "I have dittany in my brewing station, just in case, so I'll just grab that and it should be fine."

She started to step around him to get into her office, when a hand firmly grabbed her by the wrist. She raised her eyes and saw that his already hardened expression seemed to be angry. "An accident?" he asked. He seemed to notice then that he was still holding on to her wrist and let go slowly, as if warning her not to leave yet.

Her face flushed. Part of her wanted to immediately respond to the authority she connected to him and explain herself, but the other part that was striving to be seen as an adult in her post-Hogwarts years made her feel as if that was no longer appropriate. The burns were still hurting, she was still reeling from the encounter itself, and now she was struggling on what to say.

"Someone was... dissatisfied with the Ministry's new efforts to support werewolves," she said, trying to keep her voice level, but hearing it waver with emotions anyway.

She'd expected him to soften again, to move out of the way and help her into her office like the quiet and caring professor she knew. Instead his face grew angrier and she saw the muscles in his jaw clench. He didn't respond to her right away as his eyes continued to examine her burns in fury.

"...Remus?" she said with concern. It was unusual to see him not completely composed and she wanted to break him out of wherever his train of thought had gone, since it obviously wasn't a happy place. "I've got an appointment right away and I really need to treat these. Do you think you could come back later?"

It didn't break his anger, but it did bring his eyes to hers. "You're double booked?" he asked, and now she felt him examining her face.

"What? No, I've only got the one appointment," she said. He must have had higher hopes for the program than she had to think that she was double booked.

She wanted to be happy with his faith in her, when he replied, "It's me that has an appointment. I'm sorry, I didn't fill out the info, Tonks told me you knew I was coming."

"Oh! I'm sorry... I must seem so disorganized. I just heard she'd tell you about how things were going, not that you would be stopping by today." She blushed at the faux pas. Maybe names really should be a required field when setting up an appointment, if this first one was any indication.

She moved slightly towards her office door to see if he would stop her. When he turned to follow her instead of stop her, she opened the door and invited him in.

"Feel free to take a seat," she said as she crossed towards the second door that lead into her brewing station. "I've got to take care of this." She gestured towards her chest and neck. She noticed he didn't sit, but instead followed her into the other room.

Her brewing station was much more comfortable to her own preferences than the Hogwarts dungeons had been. While her office was slightly clinical, and admittedly reminded her of a hospital waiting room with its pamphlets and low budget chairs, she had worked hard to make where she brewed comfortable. Wolfsbane took a lot of time to brew, that required her to be in at odd hours, and if she was to be putting in that time and effort then she wanted it to become a happy place.

Steel tables were more practical than the desks they'd had in potions class, but there was a comfy chair in the corner, with a table next to it littered in books and notes. Bookshelves lined one wall and whiteboards on another, and she blushed at the idea of her old professor seeing her work still there in blue ink.

The cauldrons were immaculate and had a slight shine to them in the dimmer more ambient lighting. She passed by the work tables to a cabinet on the far side of the room and pulled out a precisely labelled bottle of dittany. She turned to start applying it and Remus was standing by one of the two lab tables, watching her silently.

She didn't acknowledge him watching her as she opened the bottle and spread some of the potion on her bright red wrist and hand. The immediate relief there made the pain across the top of her chest, neck and lower jaw all the more apparent. She doled some more out on her hand and started to spread on her chest and neck where she could feel the burns, straining to see exactly where they'd gone.

And then he was standing in front of her again. She'd never noticed before now that he had a different concept of personal space, and stood very close to her where he gently took the bottle from her. She looked up at him and said, "I had it, Remus. It's fine."

He shook his head. "You're missing spots. Just let me."

She sighed and turned her head to the side and tilted her jaw upwards so he could see the burns better. He touched her lightly, just enough to rub the dittany in, and when she glanced at his face it was just concentration she saw there.

Concentration wasn't what she was feeling, however. Being touched by a man was leaving little tingles along her skin and she made herself stand still and hide her discomfort. His fingers felt so cool against her heated skin as he brought relief to the pain bit by bit. She could smell the pungent smell of the dittany, but under that was the smell of him standing so close to her. An earthy, woodsy smell that felt utterly masculine.

When his fingers trailed along her chest, he delicately pulled at the edge of her robe to get the bits that stretched under it. Surprised, she stepped away and rubbed that bit herself.

He looked confused before she realization clicked on his face and he opened his mouth a little in surprise. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I got focused on just where it was red and didn't think at all. I really didn't mean to, well, I mean, it's not like I was trying to..." he trailed off in embarrassment.

She laughed in spite of her own embarrassment. "It's alright, Remus. I didn't think you were trying to get frisky or anything."

He looked more embarrassed and she could see a pink tinge on his cheeks, despite the beard he was now sporting. It was endearing to see him get flustered, and she laughed again.

"It feels better now anyway. Thanks for the help, Remus." It did feel a lot better, and she felt herself returning to normal instead of the emotional frazzled mess that Remus had met in the hallway.

He handed her back the dittany bottle to put away and went to looking around her office while he waited for her. She put the bottle back in the cabinet and spelled her hands clean, when she saw Remus looking at the notes by her reading chair.

Her 'pet project', as Harry called it, was working on improvements to the Wolfsbane potion. She didn't know if Remus was a skilled potioneer or not, but she felt that she'd rather not have her old professor see her failed attempts and unfinished work. She cleared her throat. "We can go sit in my office now."

He bent back up from looking at the books and notes and smiled. "Alright."

She lead him back into the other room and sat at her desk, feeling the still new veneer of professional demeanour settle upon her. He sat across from her, looking uncomfortable still, and examined the pamphlets on her desk.

"Not to push, but Tonks said you weren't getting Wolfsbane anymore," Hermione began, watching him scratch at his beard and try to get comfortable in the cheap chair.

"Not a drop since Snape stopped brewing it for me," he said and then looked sheepish. "Or I guess I should outright say he died. Still seems bizarre to think he's gone."

Despite him getting Remus fired and the fighting the two had continued while part of the Order, there was a very genuine note of grief in his voice. Hermione nodded, understanding the mixed feelings the death of such an unpleasant man had given many of them, particularly after his huge efforts were revealed to the public.

"Well, as I'm sure you know, part of the condition of me opening this service was me proving my own proficiency at brewing Wolfsbane. Since there's currently no clients, I'd be more than happy to have you sign on as my first, Remus." She smiled, and felt the excitement bubbling at getting things started.

"That would be great, Hermione." He grimaced. "Although I don't fancy to be tasting that again anytime soon. It's still better than getting patched up after the full moon, however."

The calendar on her wall that showed the purple lettering of her current appointment also showed the full moon to be in half a week away. "You've come at a rotten time, though Remus. I don't have any brewed currently, and even if I did there's not enough time to dose you properly. We can set up times for you to come during the week before the full moon next month, though. Part of the requirement is that you come here and be supervised drinking it, just in case there be any side effects with the potion."

"Seems fair," he nodded. "I can do whatever time works for you. My schedule is flexible right now. I'm only doing independent research for different scholars, so my hours aren't fixed."

She felt her curiosity piqued by the word 'research', and by the smile on his face she knew he'd notice her look of intense interest. She filed it away for later, knowing that with these appointments for potion dosage that they'd have plenty of time to discuss it if he wished to.

Her face broke into a beaming smile, as she remembered Tonks' comment the other day. "Well, maybe you should chat with Tonks about when works the best! Congratulations, by the way!"

His face, having had the knowing smile about her love of research, fell quickly. He looked away and said with a tone of finality, "Tonks and I are separated."

She gaped. Not having once expected to think that Tonks' prediction of a proposal was at all outlandish. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to assume. I had heard that you were going to propose."

He shook his head and sighed. "I guess we both get to have our embarrassing moment today, Hermione." He smiled tiredly. "No, we're not engaged. Things just... weren't working out."

Curiosity burned even stronger now, and she wondered why the two had split. Could it have been the age difference? Was there things she didn't see in their relationship? Admittedly, she hadn't seen them together since the war, so it could have been anything from raging fights to Tonks snored.

"Alright. I'd say I'm sorry to hear it, but I'm not sure if that's appropriate to say or not. My experience with breakups is more mine and Ron's major fights and Harry being overjoyed when we split up."

Remus barked out a laugh. "I suppose he would have been. I can't imagine how I'd have handled it if James and Sirius were dating one another."

That shocked a laugh out of her in turn and she smothered her giggles. "I think I'm glad they didn't date just because it means that Harry would never have been born!"

They were both laughing for a moment, and Hermione was amazed at how much younger it made Remus look. The grey hair suited him, and she found she liked how the silver complimented his eyes, but his laugh seemed to take away all the baggage that had aged him so much quicker. Like much of that war generation, she supposed, but it was nice to see the carefree laughter now. It felt like healing. She felt warm fuzzies tingle up her chest and towards her finger tips.

"I'll owl you with times, then. It's nice to finally feel like I'm helping someone. Reception to reopening this office has been... less than stellar." She found that mentioning the anger and failures didn't bring her down into a grey funk as usual. The happiness still merrily clung around her heart and she embraced it. "But it's all in one step at a time. Thanks for being step one, Remus." She stood up and he followed suit.

He smiled. "If I'd pulled my head out of my arse instead of trying to hide after everything that happened, then maybe I'd have been by sooner."

He walked to the door and stepped into the hallway, and Hermione followed to say goodbye. It felt so good to be cheerily ushering a client out of her office with the promise of aid. To be actually doing something and seeing a real person benefit. Especially someone she knew, at least peripherally. "I'm so happy to help, Remus," she said.

He seemed to pick up on her meaning, that she meant helping in general and not just helping him specifically. She hoped he wasn't offended by the implication that he wasn't special, but his eyes softened as they had when they first met.

She extended her hand to him to shake, and he shook it. She noticed how much bigger his hand was than hers, and could feel the calluses on it. She wondered what he'd been doing that calloused his hands, when he said his job right now was just research.

He let go of her hand, and put it in his pocket. "I'll see you soon, Hermione. I've got things to take care of now. I don't own a lot, but it's all still got to be moved out of Dora's place sooner rather than later." His eyes were downcast again, and Hermione felt her curiosity over the details of the breakup be overshadowed by empathy.

Moving before she meant to, she wrapped him in a hug. The kind of hug she'd given the boys too often when they were upset. The physical comfort that humans need and for some reason men just wouldn't give to one another. He stiffened, and then relaxed and hugged her back lighting.

"How touching," sneered a deep voice, and she let go of Remus to see Draco striding past with a disgusted look.

Her cheeks burned, although nothing they'd done was particularly inappropriate, and she let go of Remus. He didn't seem fazed by the comment, and instead looked at Hermione's red face as Malfoy continued his way down the hallway.

"I see that Malfoy Jr. is as pleasant as always," he remarked with a slight tone of amusement. "And that you still let him get to you."

She looked away, frustrated to have her childhood grudge dragged up at such a bad time.

He put a hand on her shoulder and she looked back up at him. "Don't let him get to you. Or anyone else for that matter. Being a werewolf means you need thick skin. You've chosen to involve yourself in our world now, and you're going to need that thick skin too."

She felt a little abashed to still need a lecture from her old professor, but the words were true. She nodded at him thankfully and he dropped his hand.

He began to walk down the hallway, and said over his shoulder, "I've said before that you're brilliant. Just remember that you're a Gryffindor first. Strong and brave, Hermione. Take care."

Her eyebrows rose up, and she wondered how many times he'd have had the same thoughts about his placement in Gryffindor. According to Harry Remus was the brainy one in his own group of friends, who had to deal with the shenanigans of two quintessential Gryffindors. "You too, Remus," she called after him before he turned the corner.

The hallway felt weirdly silent after all the embarrassment, laughter, and serious conversation. She turned around to see if Malfoy was still there, but he was gone, presumably in Miranda's office after he showed up yesterday and left in a snit when Hermione was there. She scoffed, and wondered if maybe he was just after a date with the beautiful witch, since the idea of a spoiled Malfoy giving up his house elves was so unbelievable.

She went into her office and sat down, writing out a brewing schedule for the Wolfsbane to sync up with the next full moon. She thought about the encounter with Remus and how nice it felt to interact with him as an adult. How this little bit of one on one time had brought out so many facets of his personality she'd never before seen. The anger at her being hurt, the grief over Snape, the laughter over a joke between just the two of them.

And he had smelled nice. She blushed at the thought. Maybe it was being single since her time with Ron, beyond a couple not very serious dates, but she certainly was well aware of every touch that they had shared this morning. His fingers lightly on her collar bone, the weight and size of his hand as she shook it, even the feel of his solid body as she'd hugged him. He was still quite thin, but in hindsight she was surprised at how hard he felt against her. Thin, but not out of shape, that was for certain.

She shook her head. One client in and she was already having the most unprofessional thoughts. And about someone who just admitted to being barely out of a relationship (but at least not still in one, her traitorous mind threw in there) and old enough he could be her father. She should really direct her thoughts somewhere more appropriate if she was going to think like that.

She thought back to the concerned cashier from a few hours ago. She'd had noticed his body too. She wiped a hand down her face. She wasn't boy crazy, but to be thinking like this so often wasn't usually her style.

She doubled her focus on her brewing schedule. She could at least make it to lunch without being a needy, touch starved, witch.

Besides, now that the war was over, maybe she could contact Viktor and see what he was up to. She smiled and scribbled a list of ingredients in different time blocks, putting away thoughts of strong arms or comforting smells to be dealt with later.

She was Hermione Granger, after all, and nothing could get in her way when she had a project.

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Author's Note:

Thanks so much to everyone who read chapter one and reviewed/favorited/followed! Your feedback means a lot to me, and I'd love to know what you like, would want to see more of, or don't enjoy! Constructive criticism is very welcome.

Thanks again for reading! Cheers x


	3. Chapter 3

Author's Note: Hello, lovelies! Thank you for coming back/making it to chapter three! Love to all you who are reading still, and special sparkly love for those that have very kindly left me reviews. Thanks for letting me know what you think, it's so fantastic to get feedback! 3

I waffled on whether to split perspectives in this story, but it ended up working out much better to include things from characters beyond our loveable Hermione. Good decision? Bad decision? Let me know! :)

Cheers!

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

* * *

Remus turned the corner from Hermione's office and walked as quickly as was appropriate to the exit floos. The Ministry felt stifling to be in, and he wanted out as soon as possible. Seeing Hermione had been nice, and he was glad that Tonks had shared her difficulties with him. Partly because it felt good to help a friend get their work started, but also because now that he had Wolfsbane meant he wouldn't need to feel as helpless once a month.

Helplessness had been a big part of his life for too long. He'd never thought, like many had, that the end of Voldemort would mean the end of hate against werewolves. He'd thought, for a short time, that having a strong witch on his side would help him through it, but really it had just fostered the idea that he couldn't do anything on his own. He was a grown man, and having someone fight his battles for him and mother him at the same time was emasculating at best and utterly depressing at worst. Rather than being a cause for her to champion to her co-workers, as he bitterly had started off as, he had decided to hide for a bit while things settled down.

He got on the lift to take him to the first floor. Crowded, as it always was in the Ministry, he jammed in between a witch and a wizard also on their way down. He felt the tense angry silence and the muttered word "werewolf" behind him. He thought back to the bright red burns on Hermione and felt himself stiffen as impotent rage built within him. It'd been a long time since comments made him angry, as there wasn't usually much to be done about them other than ignore them, but seeing it spread to people like Hermione was beyond upsetting.

Although he supposed she might be more equipped to handle it than he thought. She too had suffered for something she had no control over, with purebloods like Malfoy looking their nose down at her and others like Umbridge accusing her of stealing her magic.

He wanted to smile as he thought about the young witch, but kept his expression neutral among the group of strangers. He'd meant it when he called her the brightest witch of her age, a compliment he didn't mean lightly at the time. Perhaps he could have aptly called her one of the most passionate ones, if her championing of rights meant anything. She'd certainly had to grow up fast, with both the war and the slamming of Hogwarts doors as she pursued the real world beyond the castle. If being chased by Death Eaters wasn't enough to make them mature, then bureaucracy and bills certainly were. The change in the boys the past year had been tremendous, although he supposed Hermione had always been organized and mature.

As more people muttered and pulled him from his thoughts he stared stonily at the indicator going down floors. He was used to them not realizing, or not caring, that he could hear everything they said. Advertising the more animalistic parts that the werewolf bite that been brought into his makeup as a human did him no favours when people already regarded him as a wild animal. To say that he could smell what they couldn't, hear what they couldn't, and sometimes felt urges that they didn't would only further alienate him.

James and Sirius had thought it was so cool. They'd been the only ones to love that side of him, even if at times Remus felt like a bit of a sideshow.

The familiar pang of losing his friends tightened in his chest and he shuffled his feet uncomfortably, wanting to be anywhere but a crowded lift.

The indicator lit for the main floor and the group of people filed out. He queued up for the floo and felt more angry stares. More whispering. He kept his back straight and stared only straight ahead of him, watching one person after the other lighting up in a burst of green flames and disappearing.

He knew he would have to face this emotional gauntlet far more often if he was to be coming to Hermione's office for Wolfsbane dosage. It was worth it, he knew, but he might want to talk to Hermione about it, since he would be her first real opportunity for feedback. The idea of being able to help her back for what she was doing for him ( _for werewolves, not just him_ , his mind reminded him) was appealing. He'd spent so long being taken care of, that being able to reciprocate in some small way made him feel better.

He was glad she hadn't sought him out as her token werewolf friend and hadn't tried to force help upon him. He'd felt guilty when Tonks told him to go see Hermione, and wanted to refuse just because he'd been ordered to do it 'for his own good'. It'd been hearing that Hermione was so disheartened that had made him go through with it, even after the distraction of his and Tonks' breakup.

The wizard in front of him was engulfed in green flames and he stepped forward to the front of the queue. He brought Tonks' address to the forefront of his mind, although realizing it might be the last time he might need to do so was oddly bittersweet.

After the flames calmed down, a charm dinged for the next in queue. Remus stepped forward, grabbed his floo powder and entered the floo. As he faced the queue while saying the address he saw the disgusted look on the person next in line's face. He didn't falter in his destination, but the idea that even the back of his head had been recognized as a werewolf was disheartening.

As he stepped out of the fireplace at Tonks' home he felt himself relax. The eyes being off him let him slump a little as he brushed the ash from his shabby clothes. Tonks had tried to buy him an all new wardrobe, reminding him sternly that she made good enough money to be more than able to afford it, but he had steadfastly refused. It was bad enough she had taken so few galleons a month for rent, he wasn't about to let her dress him too.

It was funny that at first the age difference had bothered him so much. Tonks certainly didn't act like a younger witch in a relationship. He went into the bedroom they had shared and opened the closet to start packing up his possessions, few as they were.

Charming a backpack with an undetectable extension charm he started stacking books and notes inside first. All the research he was currently working on piling up as he collected it from all the different places in the house he had liked to sit and read and work he folded robes and placed them inside. The pictures he had up of Sirius and James, and one of the Potters with Harry as a little baby gurgling happily at the camera he wrapped gently in some more clothes, placing them gingerly among his other things in the bag.

He glanced around the bedroom. That so few things here were his was just another reminder that he had been living in someone else's house rather than sharing a home with his partner. He felt a guilty sense of relief to get out of there, even if it was to a house that wasn't his either.

Harry'd graciously let him take over Grimmauld Place when he owled and asked. No one had used it after their short stay while on the run, and he said that Remus would need to fix the defensive charms and probably clean it up, but he was welcome to stay there as long as needed. It'd made him feel pathetic to have to ask, but Harry had such a hate for the place that it'd made him happy just to get some use of it.

He sighed heavily. Apparently his current stage in life was making people happy by accepting their help and trying to help them back in some small way. He knew he could have tried to pay Harry the full amount to _buy_ the damn house, but that Harry would have never accepted it. James would have been the same way, and showed it when he had paid for Sirius to be a full time fighter for the Order of the Phoenix, while none of them had needed to work full time.

The thought of his son carrying on his father's generosity made him smile a little bit. He knew that Harry didn't think less of him for asking. He'd clean the place up and work as much as possible at making it a liveable place.

He did one last sweep of the place and didn't find anything else that was his. It looked almost identical to when he had first showed up, and only Tonks would probably be able to tell that this house had gone from having two occupants to one. Except for the basement.

He put his bag by the floo and walked downstairs to the cool basement air. He cast a _lumos_ and the lights lit. There wasn't much down here to see, but the air buzzed with protective spells and other charms. A large cage sat in the middle of the room, with thick reinforced bars. Some blood still smeared parts of it, and he curled his lip in disgust.

Without Wolfsbane the best they could do is contain him during his transformations. When the wolf took over and found that it was trapped it turned self destructive, and Remus knew that he was back to adding scars to his collection.

He waved his wand and began dismantling spells. Silencing spells to keep his howls quiet, strengthening charms on the cage, wards on the door to the basement, and more. It felt both oddly cathartic to unbraid the wards and protections and know that soon he'd be able to be in a wolf's body without the blood lust or violence.

There was the matter of one more full moon to deal with before he would be choking down Wolfsbane again, but he could set up his containment area in Grimmauld just as easily as he had here. It would take some effort, but he was determined to spend the week being busy rather than mourning the relationship he'd ended.

As he vanished the cage, he felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He cast a strong _scourgify_ to get rid of any remaining blood that might have been on the cement floor, and then walked up the stairs to leave the basement that he hoped he would never see again.

He flood to Grimmauld Place with his backpack of belongings and was strongly reminded of all the times he'd had to pack up and leave throughout his life. This one shouldn't be any more difficult, other than knowing that he was hurting someone that cared for him.

He stepped out in Grimmauld Place's cavernous kitchen into more empty silence. He remembered his desperate bid to leave and help Harry. Even then, when war was waging and the comforting arms of a witch was far more than he'd deserved, he'd felt the need to get away from the stifling babying that Tonks had given him.

Maybe that's why the age gap had never bothered her, he mused. She didn't see him as a grown man; she saw the shabby clothes, the gashes and bruises after a transformation, the haunted eyes that had lost all his friends... he felt like a project.

He cast spells to find any of the remaining security measures that Mad-Eye or Harry and his friends may have left on the place, but didn't find anything that he'd need to change. The dust shade of Dumbledore had long been laid to rest, and he sighed in relief that he wouldn't have to see it.

Bags down, not ready to be unpacked until he cleaned the large house after its time left unused, he rolled up the sleeves to his robes and went to work.

* * *

By lunch time, Remus sat down heavily at the kitchen table. Dust had been cleaned, pests been cleared out, and he'd vanished much of the more offensive decor. He'd happily gotten rid of the troll leg umbrella stand, and was considering, if he couldn't spell off the portrait of Sirius' bat shit insane mother, to just take the whole section of wall out. He'd need to write Harry to see what all he wanted done with the place.

He heard the front door open and slam on the ground floor above him, and was on his feet in an instant with his wand in hand. Mrs. Black started her wretched screaming as he ran for the stairs, but when he heard the all too familiar shouts of _"Abomination! Freak! Half-blood!"_ he slowed his approach.

There was grunting and he came to the top of the stairs to see Tonks wrenching on the curtains around the old hag's painting. He resignedly walked the narrow hallway to the wall and helped pull them shut.

Tonks was breathing heavy and her usually brightly coloured hair was back to a light mousy brown. The twinkle was gone in her eyes as she looked over at Remus. "Thanks."

He nodded and waited with crossed arms for her to explain why she'd shown up. She stared at him, as if waiting for him to say something, and slumped her shoulders. "Maybe we should go talk where we won't wake up Queen Bitch," she said quietly. Without waiting for his response she moved passed him to go downstairs to the kitchen. The den would have been closer, but he supposed it was a habit from Order meetings.

He followed her down the stairs, not sure if allowing the conversation to happen was a good idea, but also hating the idea of shutting her down when she already looked so sad.

She sat awkwardly at the table and pointedly waited for him to take the seat across from her. He sat and waited for whatever speech she'd prepared to give him. His heart wasn't in hearing what she had to say, but maybe it was important for her to get it out. He thought maybe he owed her this much.

"Remus..." she began, seemingly unsure. Tonks was always more about action than organized thought, contrary to himself. She would barge in and act on instinct, and granted her instincts were good, but having to craft an emotional or well thought out speech were generally not her style. He sat back and waited for her to struggle it out.

"I didn't think you'd actually move out. I know you said that we're not working, but you're wrong. We were working out great." She'd leaned forward, and was staring at him intently, completely oblivious to her opening statement just proving to him all the more that leaving was the right choice.

"You may think that, Nymphadora," he noticed her glower at her full name, but continued on, "but my feelings are the same as they were when I first told you. Staying together isn't fair to either of us. You should have someone who appreciates your efforts rather than resenting them." He kept his voice even, although he felt that it took effort.

She shook her head. He felt the familiar frustration well up at her refusal to respect his opinion. "I _know_ what you need. I know _you_ , Remus."

He couldn't help but feel that she really didn't know him at all. She knew things about him. But if she had known him so well, wouldn't she have seen how badly she had been stifling him? The depression he felt from their relationship?

His neutral face broke as he scowled. "I know what I need, thank you. If it was a mother, then I'd be spending time with Molly."

"No. You need someone who can take care of you in _every way_." Her eyes went to his lips and then down his body. She stood from the chair and went around to his, bracing herself on the arms of it and leaning over him.

He could smell her perfume, a floral scent that overpowered his sensitive nose. She leaned in closer and pressed her lips against his, and he felt the heat from her. It felt good to kiss her, it always had. Sex had never been a part of the relationship he'd struggled with, although he knew they both deserved more respect than to reduce their relationship down to sex.

Her hands moved from the chair to his shoulders, and he didn't struggle when she straddled him in the chair. God, it felt good to be touched. To touch someone else.

His hands slid up her back, and she smiled against his mouth as she kissed him again, harder. She wrapped her hands into his hair, and he pulled his down to her hips. The wide hips he'd always eyed on her, with how womanly and feminine she looked. She was younger, yes, but her body was a woman's. He gripped her hips tightly at the thought and pulled her tighter against him.

He was returning the kiss enthusiastically, and he felt his mind saying over and over what a bad idea this was. But she was warm, and so sensual. She ground herself against his crotch and he grunted against the side of her neck as he trailed hot kisses down towards her collar bone.

She slid a hand down his robe and under his pants, smiling mischievously as she did, and grabbed hold of his semi-erect cock. He leaned his head back and groaned as she stroked it, and brought his own hands around to cup her breasts through her robes. Another part of her very womanly physique, as he felt them fill his large hands.

"I know you need this," she whispered huskily in his ear as he pushed his hips up against her stroking hand and it was as if she had dropped cold water down his spine. He pulled her hands away from him, feeling the straining need to continue.

She looked at him confused and he gentled pushed her back until she unstraddled him. "What? Want a bedroom?" She winked.

Disgusted with himself he rose up out of the chair and took a deep breath to calm down. "You need to leave, 'Dora," he said slowly, trying to regain composure.

Her face fell. "You were loving it. You need me." She moved forward to grab his hand, but he pulled away. "Come on, Remus," she said angrily.

"You need to leave," he said again, with more heat in his voice.

She scoffed in disbelief and anger. "You can't be on your own. You can't stay here," she said scathingly. "You could stay with me because I supervised you. You're registered with the Ministry and not on Wolfsbane... you're not allowed to be alone."

His anger turned into hurt betrayal. "What? You know I can transform on my own safely. Why would you bring the Ministry into this?"

She looked smug, but her voice had that tone of sympathy he'd heard her use time and time again with him, "You can't really do anything on your own, Remus. It's for your own good that you stay with me."

He couldn't believe it. That she would go so low as to trap him. He didn't understand even _why_ she so badly wanted to maintain the relationship. Things had been okay when he wasn't arguing with decisions she continually made on his behalf, but there hadn't been any sort of epic romance for her to try and salvage now. The only thing he thought was that she liked the status of being the patient partner to the broken werewolf.

"Well, I'm not on my own," he spit out angrily, refusing to let her trap him now. "I've got Ministry supervision for this transformation and then I'm starting on Wolfsbane the month after that."

She raised her eyebrows in surprise. "What?"

"Your suggestion, remember? 'Go see Hermione. She's upset and you need to be a good friend.' That's what you said to me, and it's what I did. Despite what you said about it being a waste of money, her Department _does_ actually offer aid."

She scowled, and threw her hands up in the air. "Fine! You can't even be on your own without relying on your dead friend's son! When you fall apart and can't go on, then you know where to find me!"

She turned to stomp up the stairs and he was relieved to watch her go. She stopped halfway up and turned around to face him watching her leave. "You won't last," she said nastily.

"I survived well before you came around, Nymphadora," he reminded her sharply. "And will be just fine on my own."

She muttered out something that sounded like 'yeah right' and stomped her way back up the stairs. He heard her yell a shout so that Walburga started her screaming again, and then the door slammed shut.

He let Mrs. Black scream for a second while he tried to bring his temper down. He felt bad enough about having to ask Harry for help, but her words saying he wouldn't last on his own frustrated him. That she thought he had lasted years on his own only to suddenly be at a loss without her infuriated him.

He thought about his lie about getting Ministry supervision for his transformation. He hoped that Nymphadora wouldn't go accost Hermione about it.

He sighed. That was something that she was so apt to do, that he was sure he should warn her about it. He had to write Harry a letter anyway about fixing up Grimmauld, so he might as well pen one to Hermione too.

He went up to go shut up the racket that Mrs. Black was creating, wondering how Sirius ever survived with this evil bat as his mother. He fought the curtains closed and sighed.

He needed to get out of Grimmauld Place as soon as possible.

* * *

x-x-x-x-x-x

Author's Note: I reference Remus' visit to Grimmauld place in DH, but I'd like to emphasise that again Tonks and Remus neither were ever engaged or pregnant. :)

I'd also like to insist that I _am_ aware that this is a Hermione/Lupin/Malfoy fic, but somehow that Tonks action just snuck it's way in there. ;)

As always, thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Note:

I know this was a long time coming, but I hope seeing some more of Draco will help make up for it! I'd love to get your feedback- I know I have a penchant for writing about work and drawn out conversations, but I hope you enjoy it anyway. :)

* * *

All thoughts of strong barista arms or lean professor bodies were temporarily gone as burn free hands worked diligently at mapping out the Wolfsbane schedule for Remus. She put her quill down and leaned back to look at the brightly coloured blocks on her desk calendar. She smiled at the green little squares that denoted her brewing time, starting this afternoon, and the little red ones labelled _'Appointment'_ . Tapping on an red square revealed more details, and seeing Remus' name listed in her notes made her happy.

She cast a _tempus_ and the time glowed, showing it was just before lunch. Feeling accomplished, she picked up her bag with her lunch in it and decided to go down to the cafeteria a little early. A happy spring in her step as she got in the lift, people didn't stop to wonder at the cheery air around the bushy haired woman. Most employees were thinking about how to make it to Friday instead of wondering why they were being greeted with a glowing smile.

Navigating the maze that the Ministry is, and always will be, was something that took Hermione a little practice. Now the weird turns and offices that seemed to exist on multiple floors simultaneously were second nature as she wound her way through the ever thickening foot traffic as workers emerged for lunch. The rat race had originally bothered her, the single mindedness of _getting ahead_ and how so many people could work together with such little community, but now she found she enjoyed it. The feeling of business, the idea that they were all (theoretically at least) working to make wizarding society function and progress.

She smiled at her own wistful idea of a better world and a better tomorrow as she entered the cafeteria. Harry was nowhere to be seen, but even her early departure couldn't beat out Ron when it meant getting to food. He waved her over with the grin that used to make her heart flutter.

He was sitting next to a couple other aurors Hermione knew peripherally through lunch times, and she greeted them as she sat next to her friend. It was nice to be past the awkward looks and whispers that fame had brought, and that they just said a simple hello and went back to Quidditch talk felt normal. Normal was coming back, day by day, despite a time where it felt it never would.

"How's things, Hermione?" Ron asked after swallowing a bite of his sandwich.

"Very good, Ron! You've learned not to talk with your mouth full!" she said in mock congratulations. The two aurors sitting by him laughed, and Ron snorted.

He took a huge bite and looked at her. "Thanks," he said thickly around a mouthful.

They laughed harder, but even the sight of half chewed food couldn't put her off after a productive morning.

Ron, surprisingly, picked up on her lack of irritation. "What's got you so hunk dory, eh?"

Her food laid out before her, Hermione delicately took a bite of her own sandwich (she still wasn't cooking anything fancy) and chewed slowly while staring at Ron. He huffed at her and looked at his coworkers. "See what I've dealt with all these years?"

They laughed awkwardly, not quite at the point where they felt comfortable to be making fun of Hermione, despite being happy to do so to their red headed friend.

Done her bite, she primly dabbed the corners of her mouth with a napkin. "If you must know," she said, trying to hold back her own laughter at their banter, "I have a client."

Ron's faux annoyance shifted into a genuine smile. He let out a whoop and hit Hermione on the back, and she made a show of her own irritation, despite not being able to keep the smile off her face.

"That's great!" he said, pulling her against his side in a one armed hug.

"What's great?" Harry asked, as he sat down across from them.

"Hermione's finally got a client! Gonna save the werewolf world, this one," Ron grinned. Coming from anyone else, that comment would have felt snide, but her heart warmed knowing that Ron really believed in that. Believed in her.

"That's brilliant! Who is it?" Harry asked, leaning forward intently.

She laughed. "You know very well I can't tell you," she chastised. Harry sat back with a huff.

"Oi! We're confidential. You know we can keep a secret!" Ron said, puffing his chest out.

"Yes, you and the whole cafeteria can know my entire client list... once I get more than one," she answered dryly. "No, I can't tell you."

The boys looked at each other and shrugged, used to her the tone of finality she had used. No bother arguing when Hermione had her mind made up, and accepting it just made life easier.

"Well, the whole new client thing deserves celebrating, which is perfect!" Harry said.

Hermione stared at him. "Oh?" she asked. "Perfect for what?"

Harry leaned in towards them conspiratorially. "I'm taking Ginny out tomorrow... going to pop the question."

Hermione gasped and Ron pulled a face. She congratulated him while Ron grimaced in acceptance, and Harry looked relieved to not have to argue.

"I want it to be a surprise, so saying it's for your first client is a good reason. Not that it's not worth celebrating on its own... do you mind, 'Mione?"

She laughed. "Of course not! You could say it was because Ron was pregnant and I wouldn't care!" Ron choked on his sandwich beside her, as she turned serious. "But don't you think she'd want this to be between just you two?"

He shook his head. "You know Ginny. She's gonna want all her friends and family there. Celebrating together, and what not. She's mentioned it before, so I think I'm pretty safe. The only awkward part is she'll probably want Draco there too, now that the two of them are besties."

"Since when do you call him _Draco_?" Ron asked, incredulous and angry at the same time.

Harry looked sheepish. "Well, since him and Ginny are friends it's kind of hard to keep calling him the ferret. He's not all that bad Ron, really."

 _He's certainly not all that good either_ , Hermione thought, as she recalled his rude comment in the hall this morning. Not a Death Eater, but certainly not a nice person... to her at least.

"How are you going to explain why he's there if this ostensibly a party for me?" she asked, hoping he wouldn't have an answer. The idea of Malfoy joining them made her uncomfortable, even if she wasn't angry about it like Ron was.

Harry shrugged. "I'll talk to him today... ask him to just show up and join us. Ginny'll love an opportunity to get us to play nice. She says he's not mean, that it's his sense of humour."

Hermione shared a disbelieving look with Ron. Harry sighed. "Look. Point is they've really been getting on. If Ginny likes him, he can't be all that bad. He was fine when I worked with him during the trials, even. Maybe he won't even want to come," he added.

That last bit perked Ron up. "That's right! The git isn't the type to want to be there for a proposal anyway. Especially surrounded by Gryffindors."

Hermione's attention was drawn to Tonks approaching Harry from behind. Her hair mousy and lank, she seemed equal parts sad and angry. She felt embarrassment at knowing what the reason was, and blushed despite herself.

Her hand fell on Harry's shoulder, and he twisted in his seat quickly, his hand on his wand. Either auror training or the life of being a target had left Harry perpetually jumpy and especially sensitive to surprises. Seeing Tonks, he relaxed slightly. "Hullo, Tonks," he greeted, his voice neutral. Hermione felt the nostalgia of Hogwarts news and how nothing remained a secret for long; Harry obviously already knew about the split.

"Is Remus staying with you?" she asked sharply, and Hermione felt her shoulders draw back in anger at her tone. Yes, the woman was obviously upset about her breakup, but that was no reason to talk to a friend that way. Then she noticed the slumped posture and red eyes and felt guilty about her self-righteousness. She knew what heartbreak was like. She glanced at Ron, who was watching the situation in confusion.

Harry looked uncomfortable and rubbed the back of his neck. "No, he's at Grimmauld..." he said slowly.

Tonks' eyes hardened. "Thanks, Harry," she said a bit too cheerfully before turning and leaving as abruptly as she had appeared.

"What the hell was _that_ about?" Ron asked, looking at Tonks' retreating form and at Harry's downcast eyes.

"You don't remember the last time she was like this?" Hermione asked, wondering how it couldn't be obvious, despite that she already knew what the reason was. Ron shook his head. "Her and Remus broke up."

"I thought she said he was going to propose?" Ron asked, his eyebrows shooting up his freckled forehead.

"Obviously that wasn't the case." Hermione said, trying to keep the edge out of her voice. Thinking of the warming interaction she had with Remus and taking him on as her client had her taking sides without meaning to.

"If they're broken up, should you have told her where Remus is staying?" Ron directed at Harry.

Hermione's eyebrows went up at this. It was uncharacteristic of Ron to read into the emotional dynamics of people, but when it came to working with the information after it was given to him (especially if it didn't involve him personally) he could be really insightful.

She looked at Harry. "You guys know her far better than I do. Do you think that's a problem?"

Harry still looked distinctly uncomfortable. "I dunno. She can be a little quick to act before thinking," Hermione snorted at that, giving Harry a pointed look. "Hey, I didn't say I'm not like that too! But, yeah, I don't know... she was just teary and it felt weird to lie to her since she's my superior..." he trailed off with a grimace at the look both Hermione and Ron were giving him.

"So, Remus is staying at Grimmauld? When did that happen?" Hermione asked.

Relieved to move passed his faux pas Harry quickly answered, "He asked a few days ago. Said he would be moving in today, which is probably why Tonks noticed he wasn't around."

"What's he doing about... y'know, his furry problem?" Ron asked, lowering his voice.

Hermione stiffened, hoping they wouldn't go back to asking about her clientele. Harry shrugged. "He said he would be fine this month and then he had a potioneer for his potion after that."

Ron looked sideways at Hermione, and she felt the moment when things clicked for him. She expected him to immediately call her out as the brewer for the potions, but instead he looked to Harry and said, "He's taken care of himself for years. I'm sure he knows what he's doing."

Hermione felt guilt wash over her. At first for her lack of belief in Ron, who had matured incredibly in some ways since joining the aurors. His quip about being confidential was true, and although that still meant that Hermione couldn't tell him, she was beginning to see more of the competent auror he was becoming.

Then she was thinking about what Harry said. Remus wouldn't get his potion until next month... and now he was moving with a week until the full moon with no one there to help him. She stared at her sandwich with a frustrated face, wondering how she could have missed that when she had told Remus there would be no wolfsbane this month.

"Hermione?" Harry was looking at her, and she realized he'd asked her a question.

"Sorry, I spaced out there for a second. What'd you say?"

"I was just checking you're down to meet at Lucy's for seven tomorrow," he said, referring to a nicer restaurant she'd heard of but never been to.

"Oh, yeah, that works for me," she said, her mind already returning to her new problem. "I've actually got some work to catch up on... I'll see you guys tomorrow after work."

Ron gave her another look, and she attempted a smile. "Muggle Fashion Friday tomorrow, boys. Don't forget again!" she said as she packed up her half eaten lunch and stood to leave.

Harry grinned and Ron rolled his eyes. The Ministry, in an attempt to normalize Muggle culture, had introduced their own version of casual Fridays where Muggleborns and halfbloods were encouraged to dress in Muggle clothing and to educate and encourage their pureblood coworkers to follow suit. It had been a mixed bag, but it was interesting seeing how some things were catching on.

They waved her goodbye and she made her way up to her office. She had funding proposals to write now that she was making the expensive Wolfsbane potion and smiled now that she could include that it was being made for a real client.

* * *

There was the familiar sound of office doors opening and closing and people beginning to fill up the halls on their way to the exits to head home. 5 o'clock had come quickly after lunch, and Hermione had sent more owls than she had since campaigning to start the Werewolf Support Service office in the first place. People liked to donate to an actual product, and advertising the start of the brewing process was a way to show people where their galleons would be going.

She laced her fingers and stretched them out. Soon the Ministry hustle and bustle would slow down and she would be able to brew uninterrupted. Not that she got many visitors in her stark little office, but the quiet and feeling of solitude always helped her focus on the complicated potion.

Entering into her brewing room she smiled. Up to this point all her brewing had been frustrating experiments as she fiddled with the wolfsbane formula. Most were obvious failures, but even if she did think she had something she knew she would never be able to test it. The theoretical was enticing, however, and she found herself coming in on weekends more and more to research the potion.

She waved her wand to the whiteboard on the side of the room and saw the potion instructions appear. At this point with all her practice she knew it by heart, but having it up on the board was comforting. Just in case.

Another flick of a wand and her wireless radio started up playing some jazzy tunes. No lyrics, they stole too much of her concentration, and she hummed distractedly as she went about the routine of gathering ingredients from her back cupboard.

She glanced at the dittany that Remus had helped her rub in while she grabbed a polished wooden cauldron from a shelf. She remembered the feather light touch of his hands at first before he got distracted by the task and she had to step away. The focus he had reminded her of herself, and she didn't doubt that Harry and Ron had seen herself get lost in a project one too many times.

She filled the cauldron with water taken from a wild spring and let thoughts of Remus slip away as comforting routine and the wonderful feeling of productiveness swept over her.

* * *

Finally at a stopping point, she lowered the heat on the silver cauldron and set it to slowly turn for the night. She would need to be in early, 630 to be exact, to continue working on the potion, but for now she could breathe a sigh of relief.

She ran her hands through her frizzed out hair that the potion steam had pushed out of control and then stretched her hands toward the ceiling. Tilting her head one way and then the other, she tried to release the tension in her neck.

She hummed along disjointedly to the radio, not knowing the pieces that were playing and cast a _tempus_ to see it was 8:30 in the evening. Feeling accomplished with a day well spent, she turned to leave and let out a scream while simultaneously bringing her wand up.

Draco leaned against the door and while he had raised an eyebrow at her outburst, he hadn't moved despite the wand trained on him.

"I didn't mean to startle you," he said politely as he stood up properly. She was unsure if he was sincere or covering up his amusement. Or maybe both.

She let out a shaky breath and lowered her wand. "What are you doing here?" she asked, not caring her tone was sharp. She felt a little entitled to some abruptness, given he hadn't knocked, made an appointment or anything. She wondered how long he had been standing there watching her brew.

"I was here late after an appointment, when I saw your door open. I needed to speak with you and face to face always gets things moving better than an owl would," he said.

She felt awkward being in her post-brewing mess while he stood in her brewing station as if he had been in there a thousand times. A spark of irritation jolted through her at the feeling of her space being invaded.

"I see," she said shortly. Well, he was here now and it was best to deal with problems immediately. She internalized a sigh. "Please, take a seat in my office and I'll be right with you."

He nodded and walked out the door into her office, leaving it slightly ajar so she could have privacy but while maintaining the invitation into the room with him. She stood there alone for a moment and tried to slow her beating heart at the start he had given her. Surely he of all people should know better than to sneak up on people.

 _Except sneaking is what Slytherins do_ , she thought and was surprised by the uncharitable nature of the sentiment. She was beginning to sound like Ron as a teenager, and the idea at being so black and white made her grimace. She couldn't be thinking like now when cooperation was still so important.

She waved the radio off and gathered herself. This was business. She started her own department. She could do business with a Slytherin.

She entered her bright white and tidy office and sat on the other side of the patiently waiting Malfoy. He sat comfortably, yet with impeccable posture in her guest chair.

"So, Mr. Malfoy what can I help you with today?" she asked in what she hoped was a neutral way. His own face only held a small smile that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"If it's a bad time, I really can come back tomorrow if you'd like," he said, without making any motion to move. She waved the comment off and waited for him to continue. "Well, to cut to the chase: I want to run a charity event for your department."

She stared at him in disbelief. "I beg your pardon?" she asked, wondering when the punch line of the joke would show up.

He gave a one shouldered shrug that somehow looked graceful. "You're more than aware of the reputation I have. That my family has. My father, criminal as he may be, was smart about how he positioned the Malfoys after his first entanglement with you know who. My goal isn't to have the ministry in my pocket, but it certainly is to start saving face for my family name."

She nodded. It made sense. Lucius Malfoy, she hated to admit, wasn't an idiot. While Draco hadn't gone to trial and lied through his teeth like his father had, there were similarities there in career that were hard to ignore.

"So to gain favour with the public you decided to pick my department?" she asked and immediately regretted the question. Obviously he had, he was sitting in the chair, wasn't he? She was too used to talking to Gryffindors, who happily stated the obvious.

That small smile that didn't reach his eyes remained in place. "Ginevra was the one who heavily," he paused for a moment, " _suggested_ that I come to your end of the Ministry."

More evidence to the growing friendship between her best friends' sister and soon to be fiancé with the arrogant blond man sitting in front of her. Coworkers or not, it was hard to imagine the hot headed Ginny strong arming Draco Malfoy into something. It just didn't seem to fit right in her head.

"I see. You're aware that attempts to fundraise for this department won't win you the same brownie points as the department of defence or something similar would, aren't you?" She didn't know why she was trying to talk him out of raising money for her office. She felt like kicking herself, but at the same time her curiosity was pushing her. "I had a woman throw scalding coffee on me this morning for helping werewolves. Are you sure that's going to make the Malfoy name all nice and shiny?"

She was appealing to the emotional, she knew. That bringing up her own personal attack would generally gain a deep response from her usual friends, but in this case was probably showcasing a failure to remain composed.

He stared at her for a moment, as if waiting to see if she would continue, steely eyes unmoved by her question. "I recognize that other departments would be a safer bet, but I'm afraid that they would also be expected and not gather the crowd I want. I don't plan on using werewolves as a spectacle, brewing wolfsbane is a worthy endeavour, but you have to admit they get people's attention. Your... altercation today is proof enough of that."

She felt the wind come out of her sails. It did make sense. There was charity events for every huge department and they were at this point routine, even in the post-war world. She didn't bother to ask him about if he really cared about getting money to help werewolves or not... she already knew that wasn't point of this for him. It felt somehow wrong to do this not _for_ werewolves, but really it wasn't like the money was going into Malfoy's pocket. She could really use the funding; she had just spent all afternoon begging for money after all.

"It doesn't mean we have to publicly become friends, Granger," he said, as if assuming her hesitation was due to his involvement rather than his motives.

She shook her head. "It's not you that's the problem," she said. Then she raised her hands in confusion. "Or it is, I guess. I'm sorting it out."

He nodded, seemingly unsurprised at hearing that. She realized that he must have had his fair share of hate since working his way back into the Ministry.

She ran a frustrated hair through her frizzy curls. "No, it's not like that. It's that you don't actually _care_ about helping werewolves. I get that. But am I going to have issues with clients because of that?"

"I already said I think that what the office does is a good thing," he said shortly.

"Yes, and then when you walk by a werewolf in front of my office you make snide comments!" She didn't realized how much that had been bothering her until she snapped it at him. That a nice moment had been called down by his remark.

He raised his eyebrows. "I see." He paused to think for a moment and then said haltingly, "I can understand why you would have taken it that way... When spending so much time with Ginevra she talks about her friends incessantly. I suppose it made me get used to the idea of making a joke to you, when I've been so comfortable doing so with your friend. It had nothing to do with Lupin being a werewolf."

For the first time since entering her office he looked uncomfortable. Hermione couldn't help the little crow of victory that rose up inside of her. To see poised and proper Malfoy display some emotion other than cool arrogance felt like a win, even if his explanation was more than lacking.

"It's not been _that_ long since Hogwarts, Malfoy," she commented quietly. "You can't just assume to joke with someone who still thinks of you as the school bully."

His posture was ramrod straight, and she noticed the muscles in his jaw tense. For some reason it was an appealing sight, seeing the bunched up emotions in his face where there had been none earlier. "I apologize. I will watch my tongue far more closely in the future. It was a mistake on my part."

The idea of Draco Malfoy apologizing to the muggleborn Hermione Granger was absurd, and yet she didn't feel surprised. It was not spit out in anger with a teacher standing behind him. It had come, seemingly, always seemingly with Slytherins, out of what looked to be a genuine place

"I still feel like I'm supposed to hate you," she said. His face was schooling back into businesslike neutrality before she added, "And I hate that."

His attempts to regain himself seemed thwarted. He furrowed his brow and stared at her. The studied nonchalance in his steely eyes melting away slightly from the heat of her own fiery heart. She was no fool, she knew this wasn't a change of heart. That she wasn't changing him. But for this moment where grey met brown eyes there seemed to be an understanding of one another in their new world out of school, out of war, out of conflict.

She saved him from having to respond. "I'm excited to work with you. I can't deny how much this would benefit both our working lives." She stood up and he followed suit.

He reached out to shake her hand, and she took it without hesitation. He was surprisingly warm, his hand while delicate looking felt enormous wrapped around her own. She firmly shook back, and on a whim grabbed his hand with her others so she was holding his one in both of hers.

"Ginny really cares for you," she said, looking at his stony face. "I don't mean to act like more of a Gryffindor than is professional, but I hope this means we can start over."

It had been so easy to jump on the Malfoy hate with Ron the last while. To remember him from Hogwarts, to know his failings in choosing sides, to have had those years of rivalry in school and war still fresher than they had a right to be.

But now with his warm hands in hers, and his face being more confused than shocked or disgusted or angry, she could see a sliver of that person her friend had managed to see. He was looking down at her, and this close she noticed for the first time how tall he was. Close to the same height as Ron, certainly taller than Lupin given the hug she'd gotten this morning. It struck her that he was a grown man, in his own career, in his own life, and no longer the indoctrinated little boy who had terrorized her for years.

On top of that, she realized this was the closest the two had ever been if she didn't count the time her fist had kissed his face. She could feel the heat coming off him, from more than just the hand clasped in front of her, and smell the subtle cologne he was wearing, something spicy and aromatic.

One moment. One brief moment where she felt he was too close, but couldn't let go. His eyes were locked on hers, and she felt a spark, a little charge, race through her. One tiny held breath before he nodded slowly and she let go quickly and laughed awkwardly while taking a step back. "Sorry. Let's just say we both overstepped boundaries and now we can begin fresh in that regard too."

The small smile was back, and while it still didn't reach his eyes, it felt like more than just an act too. "That would be... preferable."

"Owl me for the next time you want to meet, then?" she asked, trying to regain some of the professionalism they'd held in the beginning, despite it being a lost cause.

"I'll do that. Take care." With that, he turned and exited the office, her own 'goodbye' following his back out the door.

She stared at the doorway for a moment. Emotions tumbled through her that she struggled to define.

The scars from childhood chafing.

The strange feeling of healing, both a relief and a challenge.

And a warm sensation that confused her.

* * *

Author's note: That's chapter four! Hope you enjoyed and, as always, I would love to hear what you thought. Thanks for reading!


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